Running Out of Material
by spacefemme
Summary: Eddie barely survived the cave, and he has a few things to take care of. Life's too short to lie your way through it. I wrote this thing in one sitting because there was another wrong that I HAD TO RIGHT. Oneshot.


_Thank fucking God._

It's what all the Losers were thinking when Eddie sputtered and gasped awake in the cave, using whatever energy he had to stay alive long enough to get out.

It's what the look on Richie's face said when Eddie looked at him in that moment.

It's what he heard in their sighs of relief after the Neibolt house collapsed, Richie and Bill keeping him propped up.

It's what he thought when the doctor told him he had a high likelihood of recovery, and it's what he says to himself once he's off the phone with Myra to tell her he was okay but that it wasn't working out. She took it about as well as expected, but was a little more calm when he explained fully. Still mad, still crying, but ultimately understanding. If that's how it is, then she wants the divorce, too.

She didn't deserve to be lied to all these years, but to be fair, he was being lied to about the same thing a whole lot longer.

That's over now. Thank fucking God.

It's been a few weeks and Eddie, Richie, and Mike are the only Losers currently in Derry. They're all keeping in touch, but Bill had a life to go back to (a time-sensitive one at that), and Ben and Bev already ran away together. Mike is getting some things settled in town before he moves, and Richie's staying in the room across from Eddie's at the town house while Eddie recovers.

Some mail is delivered to the lobby addressed to Eddie. He takes the envelope up to his room and reads over the papers carefully before signing his name and getting them ready to mail back.

When he brings the envelope back downstairs, Richie's behind the bar pouring himself a bourbon.

"It's official, huh?" he calls. "You're a free man."

"Just about," says Eddie.

"Drink to celebrate?"

Eddie starts toward the bar, but stops halfway and winces at a pang in his abdomen.

"Or to take care of that shit?" says Richie.

"I'm not supposed to have alcohol while I'm on the painkillers," says Eddie.

"Seems to me they're not killin' any pain."

Eddie sits down on the other side of the bar as Richie pours him a glass.

"You know, this is exactly why my mom didn't want me hanging out with you guys."

"Oh, please," says Richie. "I can think of at least five other reasons she didn't want you around us."

"I can think of ten."

Richie makes a noise that's somewhere between a huff and a chuckle, then asks, "So, uh, what was it that finally cracked?"

"For me and Myra?"

Richie nods.

"I guess the spider-clown bullshit made me realize I can't be wasting my life married to someone just to spare their feelings, or whatever I thought I was doing."

"You sure she's not gonna go all _Fatal Attraction_ on your ass?"

"The wife didn't snap in that movie, it was the mistress."

"One more thing for you to worry about."

"Very funny," Eddie says and takes a swig of his bourbon. "It's funny, though. There, uh…" He looks up at Richie and thinks he sees a glint of _Thank fucking God_ in his eyes. It's been there the whole time they've been talking, but it's probably just Eddie projecting, so he ignores it. "That was kinda part of it. I didn't cheat, I wasn't _with_ someone, it just wasn't fair for me to stay with her when I wanted something else."

Richie rolls his eyes. "My mom. There, beat ya to it," he says as if he has any right to scoff. He turns to put the liquor bottle back on the shelf behind him.

Eddie looks back down at his drink. "Close," he says, pushing past whatever's in his throat holding his voice back.

Richie fumbles and the bottle falls out of his hands. He catches it before it can shatter and clears his throat.

"Bill's mom?" he says, trying to keep up their usual pattern and pretend the thought that just crossed his mind didn't happen. "Ben's mom. Right? Damn, I'm already runnin' outta moms."

Eddie shakes his head. "Nobody's - look, we can just drop it."

Richie gasps with mock scandal and goes back to real jokes. "It's Gretta, isn't it? Man, I knew you two had something -"

"It's you, asshole."

He doesn't know why he said it. Richie wasn't actually pressing him, he was just being Richie. But he doesn't try to backpedal, just looks at him stone-faced. For the first time since they killed It, he's terrified, but he holds firm. Richie, shithead that he is, deserves the truth.

Richie blinks a few times, looking stunned, and strokes his chin like he's trying to pull something off of it. "I, um," he says. "I do, too."

_The fuck does that mean?_

He starts to correct himself, "I mean I -"

"Beep beep, Richie."

"Yeah, I beep _fucking_ beeped! Christ," he says with a thoroughly exasperated sigh. "You know what, let me just - I'll be right back."

He heads for the stairs, and Eddie can't tell if it's a storming kind of gait or just an intent one.

Richie comes back a moment later with his car keys in his hand.

"Come on," he says, jingling them in the air and beckoning for Eddie to follow him outside.

"Where are we going?" Eddie asks as Richie starts the car.

"I wanna show you something."

The drive is agonizing. Why the fuck did he tell him? Why are neither of them saying anything now? If Richie was serious back in the bar, Eddie's a dick. If he wasn't, then Richie's the dick, but egg ends up on Eddie's face either way.

Richie parks in the middle of the kissing bridge, and the irony is far from lost on Eddie. Richie gets out of the car and crouches down in front of one of the railings like he's searching for something. He scans it for a minute before calling Eddie over.

"Here, see?"

Eddie humors him and walks over to see what he's pointing at.

**R + E**

"I put that there like thirty years ago."

"You did not," says Eddie, though he's not sure if he's actually calling bullshit or just in disbelief.

"I did," he insists. "What, you think I just happened to know where to find this?"

Eddie stumbles over what to say for a moment.

"I don't - Richie, I swear to God if this is some elaborate -"

Richie stands and steps forward to shut him up.

It's not the most graceful kiss. Eddie reflexively pulls away when their front teeth knock against each other, and Richie starts to apologize.

"Sorry, probably shouldn't've -"

Eddie takes his jaw in his hands and they try again. It's a little better this time, though it's hard to ignore the taste of liquor still on both their lips, and he doesn't know what the fuck Richie's been eating today.

Even so, and even though he knows Richie's going to subject to comments about how he _actually stayed married that long to a woman, had sex with her and everything,_ all he can think when Richie parts his lips against Eddie's is

_Thank. Fucking. God._


End file.
